


why would stars fall (if not for us)

by mirena



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Jeon Jungkook & Park Jimin Are Best Friends, Jeon Jungkook Is a Sweetheart, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope Is So Done, Kim Namjoon | RM Is a Dork, Kim Seokjin | Jin Is a Good Hyung, Kim Taehyung | V & Min Yoongi | Suga Are Best Friends, Kim Taehyung | V Is a Little Shit, M/M, Min Yoongi | Suga Is Whipped, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Non-Graphic Violence, Park Jimin (BTS) Is Whipped, Park Jimin (BTS) Is a Little Shit, Pokemon Journey, Rating May Change, Recovery, Slow Burn, Soft Min Yoongi | Suga, i dont know where i'm going with this, rainbow bts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-04 05:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17298947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirena/pseuds/mirena
Summary: A long time ago, maybe Yoongi would want it. But Yoongi isn't little anymore, and all he wants is to continue his quaint life in Floaroma with nothing more than flowers and coffee and Taehyung.Of course, being unwillingly dragged along for a fucking Pokemon Journey isn't what he wants, especially if it entails short blue-haired boys with cute smiles and the ugliest temper he has ever seen.





	1. Chapter 1

### Daffodil: New Beginning

###  __

#####  _(“Hello there, I’m Yoongi.”)_

☆

Floaroma Town was a rustic, little town in the collection of rustic, little towns that Sinnoh had a tendency of building alongside their skyscraper cities, side by side. It’s all neat - looking farmhouses and cute cut hedges that are styled into various Pokemon and shapes. It’s so small that the most prominent attraction they have, was their multi-purpose hall, that didn’t even hold a candle to the ones in Hearthome or Jubilife. Of course, there were also its endless field of flowers, and famous honey products that always drove elderly couples and flourishing families to them in droves.

It was also a town full of early birds, and it is this fact that has Yoongi constantly wondering if he was in the wrong place after all.

Before it’s even eight, the town is already alive. The residents of the flowery town have long since learned to rise with the Sun, and Yoongi - a Night Noctowl to the core - has learned to as well. Even if it mentally kills him and his brain to do so.

He grumbles under his breath, the light hitting his eyelids at just the right angle to make him go blind. There are Starlys chirping maniacally outside his windows and the sound of morning shops setting up under its sill. People chatting and laughing and gossip.

Fuck, he’s tired.

A smooth touch brushes against his cheek, and he wakes up to be greeted by two beady black eyes and a pair of roses holding up a coffee cup. And it’s not even the nice - looking coffee cup. It’s looks like a coffee cup made by Taehyung when he’s inspired and chaotic and Yoongi’s not there to stop him.

In other words, it’s ugly.

But Yoongi is not a picky person, so he stretches out a hand, lifts the Ugly Cup up and to his lips and in one go, shoots it all down like some boss with beer.

Fuck, he’s _still_ so tired.

It takes a while. The caffeine enters his bloodstream at the speed of a Shuckle, and it leaves him feeling even more tempted than ever to fall back into the bed and be dead to the world, but soon, he’s stumbling out the bed and into the shower, rose hands picking out and handing clothes to him like a professional stylist.

Thank God for Jangmi. He thinks he probably would’ve died two hours into a day alone, without the Roselia. 

He’s making breakfast when his door collapses into itself, and a hurricane of gray hair and sweatpants crashes in. Taehyung smiles his boxy smile up at him, and his Luvdisc is quick to follow its owner.

“HEY HYUNG!”

_Fuck it, he’s too tired for this shit._

☆

“Target spotted! It is approximately twenty meters away, the enemy fifteen meters away-”

_Seriously, what is his life?_

After breakfast, it hadn’t taken long for Taehyung to drag Yoongi off to whatever unholy task was ready for them at his workplace. 

Both of them have jobs, and both are during daytime. It’s not like either can make a living off battling, especially since they stay firmly out of the professional rings.

Yoongi works at the only flower shop in town. The place is quiet and peaceful, and it’s godsend in his eyes. The hours are flexible, the lady boss is a nice youthful mother with three children, and the most labour - intensive task he ever has to do is pluck berries, and flower arranging. And Yoongi likes flowers, he likes planting, so the tasks are more like a hobby than objectives to tick off a list.

Taehyung, on the other hand, works at a _bakery._

There’s nothing wrong with bakeries. In fact, Yoongi thinks bakeries are places that rank just slightly below flower shops in terms of tranquility. The thing is though: Taehyung chooses to work at _that_ bakery. As in the biggest bakery in Floaroma that is famous for its honey products, and picks every ingredient they possibly can by hand, and has so much menial labour that Yoongi would’ve dropped dead a single hour in working there.

Of course, handpicked ingredients also include the honey used in their said trend - setting honey breads and pastries and cakes.

Yoongi doesn’t really remember how the hell he’s gotten involved in this. But between Tae’s morning whining, and the mechanical thought process of a caffeine drunk man, he’s gotten roped into collecting fresh jars of honey needed for the bakery’s batch of morning pastries tomorrow that have _nothing to do with him._

This isn’t his responsibility. Why is he doing this?

“-yung. Hyung! Incoming, Combee swarm heading north your way!”

Oh right. Taehyung. That’s why. The kid would die five minutes without him.

Tilting his head up from his spot among the flowers, Yoongi could see the trio - hexagonal shapes of the swarm as the beating of multiple wings grow louder. With a twitch of the hand, Holly pops out of his pink Heal Ball, alongside Jangmi from her own Great Ball. The West Sea Shellos coos confusedly at him, before clumsily nudging his palm, and Yoongi withholds the urge to coo back at the adorable sight before turning his attention to Jangmi.

The Roselia merely takes one sweeping glance around the site, offers him her best _‘are you fucking serious’ look_ , and then proceeds to click her Ball’s button and pop back into the blue - lidded sphere.

The freaking _nerves._ He cooks her poffins for breakfast and this is the amount of respect he gets? _Rude._

He lets her back out a second right after she let herself back in. And this time, she stays out.

The Combees are even closer now. He can hear it. They flutter closer and closer to his hiding spot, so close that they’re almost directly above him. Just a few paces away from him, Taehyung gestures wildly at him with flailing hands and a near face-plant into the dirt, and Yoongi takes that as a _‘GOOOO’_ in Tae language.

Carefully, he brings Holly up to his head, letting the Shellos slide on. He angles his head to face the entire swarm and watches as more and more of them gather above him, attracted to the honey - slathered bark behind him.

 _Three - Two - One, and-_ “Holly, Water Pulse. Now!”

On his command, a huge glob of water bursts from his head, the Shellos firing the move off in consecutive succession. The sudden splash surprises the swarm, the liquid soaking into their wings. It sends them into a flurry and he watches as the Combees enter the Confusion Status, as they bump and hit each other in their hurry to track the attacker.

“Jangmi, stun spore!” he hisses, and the Roselia obeys quickly. A cloud of bright yellow powder shoots out from her roses, and one by one, the Combee swarm drops like rocks through a sea, hexagonal bodies limp and wings twitching and wet.

The moment the final Combee hits the ground, Taehyung lets out a whoop of joy alongside his quivering Luvdisc, as they heave up a large sack and start trooping their way towards the Combees’ colony. Yoongi heaves a sigh, lethargic body falling back on the grass. Holly suctions his way down to his right shoulder, while Jangmi gives him a condescending pat on the left one, as if to say _‘you didn’t even do much’._

Which, again. _Rude._ Yoongi had cooked breakfast for these two and Tae before coming here, and then trekked the entire way to Floaroma Meadow to set up this one - time trap.

Children these days, no respect for their elders.

After returning Jangmi to her ball, he shakily brings himself up to his feet, before heading towards the colony himself. By the time he arrives, Taehyung is already filling up his fifth jar of honey. The man’s Luvdisc is gone, and instead in its place, is a bulky Machamp that could probably bench-press Yoongi on his heaviest days. Except…

“Your Ditto is pink from the knee down,” he deadpans, and he relishes the full - body jerk it gets him from both Pokemon and human.

Like some cue card, his words get a reaction. Before Yoongi’s very eyes, the once solid Superpower Pokemon bubbles and disappears, dissolving back into its original, shapeless form. The shiny Ditto shoots him a dirty look, before morphing back into a Machamp although this time, the neon pink colouration shows only from the ankle down.

Over capping a jar of sticky honey, Taehyung pouts at him. “Hyuuung! Why did you do that? Tata’s transformation was fine! Almost every detail was perfect!”

“Except the neon pink. I’m pretty sure even shiny Machamps aren’t neon pink.”

“But it’s almost perfect!” Taehyung insists, handing off the mason jar to Tata, who carefully places it into the sack. “Tata can copy five Pokemon perfectly from memory, and a few dozen more with only tiny mistakes in detail, isn’t that impressive?”

It is, but Yoongi isn’t gonna admit that. “And may I remind you that there are over _seven hundred_ Pokemon recorded in existence, excluding regional variants and the likes?” The reason as to why Taehyung’s Ditto even had this sort of skill, that no other Ditto had, went unsaid.

“Whatever hyung. Now let’s fill up this last jar and… go…” Suddenly, Taehuyng went as still as a statue as his eyes sweep over Yoongi’s face to pass his shoulder. His pretty tanned skin bleached at least two shades paler as he makes a frantic gesture towards his left. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Yoongi follows Taehyung’s silent words, slowly rotating a full one - eighty on his heels -

Only to meet the Cheri Berry red eyes of the Queen Vespiquen of the colony, pincers poised and ready to Felt Stinger its way through Yoongi’s body, the entire swarm of Combees looming behind it like an army going to war.

Well Fuck.

“RUN!”

☆

After escaping the Queen Vespiquen and her Combee army, both he and Tae had quickly split paths. Taehyung heading straight to the bakery to deliver the honey jars, and Yoongi to his shift at the flower shop.

The moment he steps past the entrance, gloved hands proceed to manhandle him to the register, raking fingers through his scalp and pulling the earthy remains out of it.

“Seriously, Yoongi. I thought you knew better after last time this happened.”

Shin Suran was a pretty, petite girl who was Yoongi’s coworker at Pick a Peck of Colors Flower Shop. She had glossy black hair like strings of black pearls that spill over her shoulder and shirt in loose curls, and pale skin that could rival Yoongi’s. Meticulously with a sort of _‘I thought better of you’_ judgement, she picks out leaves and dirt from his mint hair and disposes them into the plastic rubbish bin by her side.

Yoongi wants to protest at this accusation. Taehyung is the one who drags him into these situations, sometimes even kicking and screaming. But the last time he’d blame Tae, Suran had given another judging look, and told him to _‘just say no if it’s really that much trouble, kid’._

He wishes it were that easy, but saying no to Tae is like trying to deny a baby Pichu its favourite treat. Meaning, it’s pathetically pitiful and cute to the point that you’d just agree, because your heart would not be able to take the bullshit that comes next. Teary eyes are matters of the heart that Yoongi cannot, for the life of him, handle.

“I do know better.” Yoongi argues as he aggressively tallies the number of orders they’ve received this morning. It comes up to five in total. “But why don’t you try saying no to Tae and then tell me how that works out, hm?”

“Oh please, Yoongi. I wouldn’t even stand a minute against those eyes. You, on the other hand, are more than capable of being a bitch and refusing him. Only you ever could, darling dongsaeng.”

He could and if it were anyone else, he _would’ve_. But again, this is Taehyung. This is actually the guy who’s been by Yoongi’s side far longer than anyone else he can remember. This is the boy who tracked down Yoongi with nothing more than a fragile letter, and with the clothes on his back, the hair against the wind and the boxiest smile that is symmetrical and cute.

This is Kim Taehyung, and Articuno knows, that nothing can stop chaos itself.

“Don’t call me bitch,” he answers dully instead. All he gets is a scoff and more hair - tugging.

After she pulls out the last bit of dirt, they get to work. The first order is someone’s declaration of love. It’s so typical that Yoongi doesn’t even stop himself from rolling his eyes at the intentions. You’ve seen one bouquet of love, you’ve seen them all. And this guy didn’t even have the decency to be creative with his bouquet. How boring.

It’s as he’s wrapping the flowers in their lacy white paper - meant specifically for those lovelorn suckers - that the bell rings again. He doesn’t bother looking up, because Suran’s still at the cashier, so any new orders go to her.

But this customer is coughing. In fact, he’s coughing so much that it makes Yoongi want to take the broom and sweep the customer on his merry way out of here. Because Yoongi has work, and this customer obviously doesn’t know manners if it slapped him on the ass.

“I’m sorry sir, but any order you wish to make has to be taken by me.” he hears Suran address the dude. “My colleague is currently busy with work.”

“Ah no… I’m not here to place an order. I was told to come here to give this letter to someone called… Min Yoongi?” A letter?

He tightens the ribbon securely around the roses, before looking up. Coughing Man is tall, annoyingly so, and it gives Yoongi the urge to smack him just for that. He’s got the deepest dimples he’s ever seen, and the face to go with it too. He’s got the hair of a grape and blue eyes behind black frames that remind him of a photo frame for some obscure reason.

He’s also wearing the dirtiest lab coat Yoongi has ever had the misfortune to grace eyes on. It has coffee stains, and ink stains, and freaking blood stains. It makes Yoongi want to throw the guy into a laundry machine and never let him out. Ever.

Or at least, until the dude learned the meaning of dry - cleaning.

“It’s me,” he says, and both heads turn to him, “I’m Min Yoongi. Do you need anything?”

Coughing Man’s dimples go deeper, and it makes Yoongi want to stick his finger in and see how deep it goes. “Yeah, um here. I - uh - have a letter for you. From Professor Yang Hyun Suk?”

And Yoongi’s mood takes a downhill through the Earth’s mantle right there.

“Not taking it.”

He sees Coughing Man do a double-take,”Pardon?”

“The letter. I’m not taking it,” is his curt reply. Suran’s giving him a warning look, but Yoongi ignores it. Anything associated with Pokemon Professor associates with trainers, and Yoongi has not called himself a trainer in a long, long time.

“But - “

“Or I will spray Tamato spray into your eyes. Out _now_.”

That shuts the man up and sends him back-walking his way out of the door. It’s a weird way of exiting a shop, and maybe Yoongi’s threat had actually sounded real despite the fact that he has no Tamato spray, but as long as there’s a five-hundred meters distance between him and Coughing Man, the dude could front flip his way out and Yoongi wouldn’t even blink an eye.

He breathes a sigh of relief once Coughing Man is firmly out of sight.

“That was rude,” Suran comments factually,”he was just doing his job.”

Yoongi couldn’t care less right now. The letter could have contained some million won inheritance, and he would still turn it away. Anything associated with that snake of a Professor was never going to come near him, even if it were dudes with dimples deeper than the sea and cute eyes.

“Whatever,” he scoffs, penning down a cheesy note onto patterned paper, ”he’s not gonna come back anyway. If the professor’s smart enough, he’ll know not to come back.”

She shrugs, ”If that’s what you say. But careful, it might just bite you back in the ass.”

“I doubt it.”

☆

Three days later, when Yoongi’s tied to a chair and held hostage, he’ll remember to curse Suran deeply for jinxing him.


	2. 02: let it rain tansies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the first example of Murphy's Law that will happen multiple (and i mean multiple) times throughout this fic. ((oh poor poor Yoongi has no one ever told you not to tempt things??))

###  **Tansy: “I declare war on you”**

**(“Kidnappers don’t usually give their names to their victims... or play Go Margikarp with them.”)**

☆

Three days have passed, and Yoongi has yet to have anything ‘bite him back in the ass’ as Suran said.

That means that approximately seventy - two hours and some have passed without any sort of calamity and that worry was for nothing but naught. Yoongi was clearly fine. The Professor at this point knew better than to contact the mint - haired man of all people. The most worrying thing he’s had to worry about all day was if Tae had broke his coffee machine again. 

Walking past the tidy lanes of family-owned shops, Yoongi soon reached his destination of the only Pokemon Center in the town. 

The automatic glass doors whirred open, as he strolled into the minimalist interior of the Center’s receptionist. Sometimes Yoongi thought he would never get used to the rather cynically-decorated furnishing of Sinnoh Pokemon Centers. There were times he’d stepped through expecting drab walls and tall flowers in vases, only to look up and see the glass tables and metal chairs of the Center.

He’s been living in Sinnoh for two years on now, and still there are times where he looks up expecting a different scenery in front of him, only to be met with something else.

Dear Zapdos, it’s _irritating._

Shrugging pass the crowd of wannabe trainers and starry-eyed kids who want to be those wannabe trainers, he goes up to the counter just as the last person leaves it, some blue haired kid whose around Yoongi’s height. Nurse Joy is there like usual, manning the reception and handling baby trainers with the patience of saints.

“A general check-up for two Pokemon,” he requests blandly, not letting her push a word in first, as he places two Pokeballs on the counter. He’s been here often enough that the Nurse recognizes him on sight by now. And almost like an after-thought, he adds in ,”please.”

The peach-haired nurse sends him the driest look possible, though she does pick up the two spheres. “You know the procedures by now, Mr. Min, Before any beforehand handling of the Pokemon, the owner must fill in the consent form so that the Pokemon Center will have all records of all treatments that we’ve administered today. And that includes you.”

She slides him a form and a pen across the surface and all Yoongi can do is groan, because did he have to? There was only so many times he could fill in the same information before it got repetitive.

“If you find it that tedious, Mr. Min, you could always just visit a private clinic,” Nurse Joy deadpanned wryly, and that, in itself, was an even worse option, if only because of the obscene price he would have to pay just for an hour long check-up of the same quality.

In all actuality, Pokemon Center free check-ups were a privilege only extended to trainers with a professional, league-issued license. After all, if any idiot with the next Pidgey claimed they were a trainer, the Pokemon Center would be severely overworked, and underpaid, despite the daily stipend they received from the league for their compulsory services.

Yoongi isn’t a trainer, but a long time ago, he was one. Just because Yoongi refuses to have anything to do with the Battling Rings nowadays, doesn’t mean he has any reservations with taking advantage of all the benefits a proper trainer license gives him, even if it hadn’t been renewed in - like - a year, or two, or maybe a few more than that. 

“I’ll fill it in,” he sighs, pocketing the form, “but please check over them well.”

“I’ll do so seriously,” she answers back smoothly. Good, he thought. The Joy Family may be in the collective back-pockets of every league out there, but it still didn’t change the fact that they were the leading organization in Pokemon Medical Care.

“By the way,” he asks after a while, “have there been any packages here addressed to the flower shop? I’m here to pick them up.”

“As a matter of fact,” the Nurse pauses, plucking the form from his hands before resuming her sentence, “a package for you just arrived yesterday. Originally the PokeMart had it, but the manager gave it to us upon seeing the recipient of the package.”

“Can I collect it now then? It’d be more convenient for me if I just brought it back while my Pokemon are having their check-up.”

“Just a moment…” Ducking under, Nurse Joy soon re-emerged, holding a large, cardboard bow, taped securely with a variety of post stamps haphazardly plastered all over it. So haphazardly done, that it gave Yoongi cross-eyes just trying to track every single one of them. Although…

“... who the hell packed this? It looks like Taehyung’s work on a good day,” he deadpans, regarding the hideous vomit-green dotted wrapping paper that the entire package was _kindly_ decorated in. If this was some sort of free new service thing, Yoongi would gladly burn that shit, because this looked _awful_. It was even uglier than Taehyung’s pottery attempts, and that was saying something.

“.…. Just please take it, you’re holding up the line,” was the only reply the pinkette had, as she gave the package a pained look. Huh. Seems like he wasn’t the only one vaguely disgusted and majorly offended by the lack of physical aesthetics that the package offered.

Grumbling quietly, he shuffles the box into one hand, being careful to balance it while signing the ‘proof of delivery’ with his other. It was strange though; was a box full of pretty envelopes meant to be this heavy?

Whatever, things that came in bulk were always really heavy anyways.

So occupied with adjusting the package into a more comfortable position to carry, Yoongi doesn’t notice the gray-blue eyes that follow him attentively, not even as he left the Center.

☆

“Woaaah, where did they find wrapping paper like _that?_ ” breathes Taehyung, genuinely awed by the sheer hideousness of the package’s wrapping paper. The boy had been waiting for Yoongi at the flower shop and upon sight of his beloved hyung and the dotted monstrosity, had pounced on the man like a hungry Munchlax after berries would.

The way his dongsaeng said it almost sounds like how an artist would of another’s masterpiece, except this was no grand work of art in his hands; if anything, just looking at it made Yoongi want to hurl it off a cliff. Unfortunately, Floaroma was a pretty town with meadows and flowerbeds and no cliffs in sight, so he’d have to hike up Route 205 if he wanted to go through with the act of package homicide.

“How you find this attractive in any way, amazes me,” Yoongi grumbles, roughly dropping it on the counter with an ‘oof!’

“It’s a matter of aesthetics, hyung!” the other insists. “Different people find different thing pretty.”

“... if that’s the case, then your sense of aesthetics must be really interesting.” The funny looks he’d been given for the damn thing sure told him so. Not to mention…. 

“Why is this thing so fucking heavy?! Are envelopes suppose to feel like flowerpots?” is the complaint that tumbles out of his mouth. It comes out more like whining, but whatever. It’s not like anyone but he and Tae were here.

“Maybe you’re just weak hyung,” Tae not-so-helpfully suggests, ignoring the heated glare Yoongi sends his way, “after all, hyung’s pretty bad at exercise.”

Weak? Really? Did Taehyung really have any right to call him that when the teen himself couldn’t even lift anything heavier than a baking tray without turning red? Tae was the last person Yoongi wanted to hear that sort of comment from.

Takking out a pair of scissors from the drawer, Yoongi is careful cutting through the top. With a sort of caution that envelopes don’t actually need, much less this box, he opens up the lid -

Only to be meant with a cloud of green spores as the very last thing he sees.

☆

When Yoongi wakes up, he’s tied to a chair. It’s not a comfortable chair either, instead it’s one of those steely metal ones that are cold to touch and make you flinch upon it. The rope, wrapped at least ten times around him, digs irritably into his skin, and it puts him in a highly uncomfortable position.

Another thing he realizes, upon his return from deep slumber, is that he’s the only one tied.

Taehyung, on the other hand, is having the time of his life at a table not far from Yoongi. He’s sat with one other dude, cross-legged on a metal chair of his own, holding a whole deck of cards and playing fucking _Go Margikarp_ with who is obviously, their kidnapper.

_What The Fuck?_

“Hyung, don’t say that in other people’s homes! It’s rude.” Still holding the deck close to his chest, Tae turns on his butt to face Yoongi, pouting at him as if he didn’t find this entire situation worrisome and tiring and _for Articuno’s sake, has no one ever taught this man-child the meaning of stranger danger?!_

“I’ve been taught!” said man-child yelps indignantly, and oops. Had Yoongi said that out loud?

“Yes, yes you did,” Potential Kidnapper chirps in, clearly amused at their predicament. Well, at least _someone_ was enjoying this kidnapping farce, because Yoongi really, really wasn’t.

“Taehyung, _why_ are you playing cards with this mugger?” he stresses. “He could be some pedophile rapist or serial killer or ransom terrorist! And you’re a pretty kid with healthy organs! He could sell you into the black markets!”

“Hey - I wouldn’t do that!” said _rapist/killer/whatever-he-is_ defends loudly. Yoongi ignores him. People who kidnap other people, even if those other people were pretty, dirty-minded little shits with no impulse control, did not deserve to defend their identities to the victims when they were the ones who initiated this whole thing.

 _He brought this on himself, so let him reap what he sowed,_ Yoongi thought vindictively. Maybe he could play dead and have Taehyung accuse Kidnapper of murder?

Unfortunately, Taehyung jumps to Kidnapper’s defense, “Hoseok-hyung really isn’t like that hyung! Sure he’s scary and creepy and kinda smiles too much too - “

“Are you trying to defend me or get me killed…” Kidnapper - no, _Hoseok,_ mumbles despondently.

“ - but he’s really nice, hyung! And they had a legit reason to kidnap us!”

“Wait a minute. _They?_ ” At that moment, the only door in the room creaks open, and along with the crack of light it allows in, four more figures enter the place, all dressed like they’re ready to go on a journey.

For some reason, that thought gives Yoongi a bad, bad feeling about this whole situation.

He doesn’t recognize the first three. Blue-Hair is moodily glaring at him. Buneary-Teeth is merely glancing curiously at them, while Broad-Shoulders maintains a picture-perfect, polite smile throughout the whole debacle, like some person straight out of a toothpaste ad. 

The fourth one, however, Yoongi finds to be a familiar, unwelcome sight. “You,” he deadpans vengefully, and the full-body squeak it gets him from the lab assistant is a ridiculously satisfying reaction. It’s nice to know that after being constantly exposed as a Living Marshmallow by Tae, he’s still got it in him to be one scary-ass motherfucker. Even if it’s only in terms of appearance.

Buneary-Teeth looks just as intimidated, but the other two still maintain their posture and it makes Yoongi’s eye twitch a little. 

Damn it.

“Yes, him,” Broad-Shoulders agrees easily, as he strolls a little deeper into the room, “hello Yoongi-ssi, it’s nice to meet you in person. Do you remember Namjoon?” As he says this, he nudges the lab assistant forward, and Yoongi would be pretty hard-pressed to forget this man.

Namjoon. So that's Coughing Man’s name.

“Yang Hyun Suk’s errand boy.” he states wryly. “Yes, I remember. What about him?”

Broad-Shoulders’ polite smile widens into something that resembles a passive-aggressive grin. “Oh perfect! We won’t need any ice-breaking then! Well, I’ll be blunt - “

“In twelve months time, the world’s going to self-implode and you, Min Yoongi, are one of the members who are going to help save it!”

_“What.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still genuinely am not sure what i'm doing but i had two different ways this story would kinda go and decided to choose this way. hope the flow of this isn't too awkward or anything (=_=), this chapter's also shorter cause ... yeah, i wanted it to be longer, but oops? Anyways, hoped you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> There's a severe lack of Pokemon/Bts crossovers. I had to rectify that immediately.
> 
> And I genuinely have no idea what I'm doing. help mee-


End file.
